


bright forever

by sunsetswerv



Category: Julie and The Phantoms (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M, bobby isn't apart of the band bc to be honest... i forgot about him. whoops!, caleb is their tyrant of a manager who doesn't like their original music, julie and flynn are summer interns at a massive record label, julie deals w impostor syndrome, modern boyband au!, sunset curve is a worldwide smash hit, they meet the boys... and hijinks ensue
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 15:55:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26830255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunsetswerv/pseuds/sunsetswerv
Summary: sunset curve is a worldwide smash hit boyband with a tyrant of a manager.  flynn and julie are earning their community service hours as summer interns at one of the most successful record labels in the country.  the band's week off of touring in L.A. combined with the girls' first week on the job creates the perfect environment for some unprecedented chaos.
Relationships: Alex/Willie (Julie and The Phantoms), Julie Molina/Luke Patterson
Comments: 86
Kudos: 323





	1. i.

**Author's Note:**

> hi, everyone! i hope you're doing well! i'm so excited to share this fic with you - it's a premise i've been working on steadily for a little bit now. chapters will be posted right around every week, definitely not sooner because music school is a beast and i need to actually do my homework even if i'd rather be writing. :') shoutout to @andwhenwepart on tumblr for reading this chapter through for me! i hope you all enjoy!

The lights are hot and the crowd is _electric_ as Luke and Reggie take off into the home stretch of the finale, pure adrenaline coursing through their veins. Luke glances over and cocks his chin at his bandmate, and half of Los Angeles hears a stadium full of girls _scream_ as the bassist dances across the stage to share Luke’s mic. Together, they whip back to face Alex, who throws a wink at the crowd and sings the pre-chorus solo before practically throwing himself back into drumming with a passion he hadn’t unleashed all night.  


Together, Reggie and Alex vamp the pre-chorus instrumental as Luke clears his throat and steps up to the mic. “Come on, LA, we thought you guys knew the words to this one!” he smirks as the audience roars in protest, then finds the chord position for the chorus without looking. “Alright, then how ‘bout you prove it! Come _on_!”  


As Sunset Curve’s lead singer shreds the final chorus of the night, an entire sold-out stadium shouting the lyrics back at them, he feels… oddly hollow. Sure, the high of performing was undeniable, and the privilege to perform with Alex and Reggie all over the world was something Luke would never get over. But that’s all it was for him, the joy of _performance_. The music wasn’t his - wasn’t any of the boys’. To him, their biggest hits since they blew up were just covers, decoys to smother the art that the band had spent years perfecting to earn a big break. Was the fame worth the cost of the soul of the band- the entire reason Luke _became_ a musician in the first place? Honestly… he wasn’t so sure.  


He shook himself out of his thoughts before joining Reggie on blasting the final harmony until their lungs were about to burst, his hands somehow already playing the guitar solo without being told. He’s back in it, now, absolutely milking the crowd for all they were worth, while Alex was _on fire_ behind the drumset.  


With a final clamor of cymbals, Luke slings his guitar over his shoulder and wrestles his mic free from its stand as he sprints to the lip of the stage, killing time for Alex to make his way down to join them.  


“We love you, Los Angeles! You’ve been great!” Luke shouts, grinning as his voice ripples across the venue.  


Reggie practically materializes beside him he moves so fast, Alex not far behind. Reggie waves at the crowd, smiling wildly. “Yeah, Sunset Curve _LOVES YOU_ , LA! Thank you for coming out to see us!” He yells, still bouncing with adrenaline as the fans absolutely ate it up.  


“Drive safe, make sure you’ve snagged some merch, and tag us in your videos from tonight!” Alex pipes up, holding a mic with one hand and twirling a drumstick absentmindedly with the other.  


“And remember…” Alex and Luke drawl, their heads snapping center to Reggie in anticipation.  


“We’re Sunset Curve-” Reggie starts slyly, and points his mic out at the audience.  


_“TELL YOUR FRIENDS!”_ came the thunderous reply, and the stadium erupts into euphoric chaos.  


Reggie and Alex share a look as they soak in the roar of the arena: this crowd isn’t calming down, and they don’t have another show for the rest of the week. ‘ _Encore_?’ Alex raises an eyebrow as he mouths the idea at Reggie, lowering his mic for a moment. Reggie nods, shrugging his shoulders as if to say ‘ _Why not_?’’ They rarely performed an encore after a show - their manager insisted that it made their fans expect too much of the band, and they didn’t want to overextend themselves.  


Today, however… it felt right, even if they’d receive a scolding afterwards. Bouncing on his toes, Reggie turned to get Luke’s opinion on a song they could pull out of their back pocket. That is, he _would_ get Luke’s opinion... if he were still standing next to him. The boys groaned, but remained smiling, another coaching drilled into them - _never let the crowd know that something’s wrong_. “I am going to kill him,” Alex mumbled through a grin to Reggie.  


“Just go get him, Alexander,” Reggie replied through his teeth, taking a deep bow as Alex raised his index to the crowd to playfully suggest ‘ _be right back!_ ’ and ran off into the wings. Reggie blabbed at the crowd to kill time, asking those close enough that he could hear what their favorite part of the night was, hoping to soon segue into the encore that should .  


“Dude, I’m going to take that stupid book away from you if you don’t get back out here. A song can wait!” Alex hissed as he nearly collided with Luke in the wings, who was leaning up against a speaker scribbling chord symbols onto a blank page in his journal.  


“A song has been nagging me since the beginning of our last set - I’d forget it if I didn’t get it out of my head.” Luke snaps, running a hand through his hair which was much too short for his taste, but apparently the wardrobe director had suggested a cut for a ‘cleaner look’ for the lead singer. He’d fought the idea for an entire month while they were on tour, but suddenly the ultimatum reared its ugly head: Luke could cut his hair, or he was out of the LA show.  


(Luke cut his hair.)  


"You’re not gonna have a head left to brainstorm with if you don’t get back out there - we were about to spring an encore. They were going _crazy_ for us, dude. Reggie is drowning out there by himself.”  


“Just… let me…” his words were drawn out as he frantically scrawled across the page, “get to… the bridge. There,” he proclaimed, snapping the book shut and looking back up at his bandmate. “Let’s go rescue poor Reginald,” he smirked, and suddenly the two boys appeared again onstage to an enormous roar from the crowd.  


Reggie couldn’t conceal his relief at Alex coaxing Luke back to the show- the time he’d had the floor to himself felt like _twenty-five years_ and the audience was lulling, restless: _Was there a surprise left in the night or not?_  


Returning upstage to their instruments as fast as they could, Alex frantically called out a song like a quarterback calling a play as he leapt up onto the platform that held up his drumset in one fluid motion. Luke mumbled around the guitar pick in his mouth as he settled his mic back into place, Reggie plucking a few notes on his bass to check the tuning: “Alright, LA, I’m gonna be real honest with you,” he began, making a few minute adjustments to his microphone before shooting a heart-melting smile at the crowd, “You’ve been one of our best audiences _ever_ tonight. Hands down. So we thought we’d reward you with, y’know… a little encore!”  


The fans went absolutely wild as Sunset Curve launched into their final song of the night.  
  


**@sunsetcurveofficial** : hope u liked my improv tonight, LA. sry for the delayed encore - luke wasn’t feeling the greatest and had to take a quick breather! love u guys so big! thx for all the continued support. #TELLYOURFRIENDS !! :) -reginald  


**@bassicreginald** : [3 img] OMG LUKE CUT HIS HAIR BEFORE TONIGHT’S SHOW AND IT LOOKS SO CUTE I-  


**@pattterson** : [1 vid] i swear luke looked straight at me during the acoustic set tonight. no i will never fully recover from this #tellyourfriends  


**@sunsetcurv** : [1 vid] alex and luke running back onstage for the encore <333 hope luke is feeling better! #sunsetcurveLA  
  


It was like a switch flipped in Luke’s head as he shoved his electric guitar at the nearest stagehand, irritation consuming him as he stormed off to the guys’ shared dressing room. He was _tired_ of this - of the band being paraded around like some show pony, looking and sounding like any other random artist. As the guitarist navigated backstage he popped the top buttons on his ridiculous collared shirt (since when did Luke wear anything with _sleeves_ , let alone an actual collar?), trying to get some air. This wasn’t who he was. How could he let this happen to his music? To _himself_?  


“I am so sorry about him,” Alex gently took the guitar from the shellshocked stagehand and took off in hot pursuit of his bandmate, Reggie in tow. The bassist glanced up from his phone long enough to acknowledge the exchange that just occurred.  


“Yeah, me too. You know how a rockstar can get,” Reggie quipped apologetically as he was brainstorming some damage control on the band’s Twitter after Luke’s disappearing act. As soon as they’d cleared the bustle of the tech crew breaking down the stage, Alex and Reggie shared a concerned look, stopping just outside the dressing room door.  


“He hasn’t been like this in a while.” Reggie said, his voice low, “I thought he’d calm down until this leg of the tour was over.”  


“In an ideal world, maybe,” Alex replied, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look, I get why he’s frustrated, but we _need_ this, Reggie. We need-”  


“We _need_ to be dressed up in matching outfits and have our sound completely sugarcoated?” Luke spat from the other side of the door. Reggie jumped at his friend’s voice. “Yeah, yeah, I can hear you guys. Just come in here and talk about me to my face, why don’t you.”  


Alex and Reggie felt as if they were stepping into a minefield by opening the dressing room door, stepping gingerly inside the space. Luke’s frustrated outbursts were completely understandable if one knew what sacrifices he'd made to get the band this far, but otherwise… they could rub people the wrong way. Alex leaned Luke’s guitar against the back wall, the lead singer apparently in another world within his songwriting journal with one foot propped up on the dressing room table, the outburst forgotten as quickly as it'd came out of his mouth. Reggie shook his head, smiling at the familiar scene, and looked over at his bandmate. He started to speak, but shrugged instead: a clear expression of ‘ _I don’t know what to do here_.’ Alex held back a laugh and glanced from bassist to guitarist.  


_Well_ , he thought, to himself, _if you can’t get something done right, you may as well do it yourself_. “Knock knock,” Alex said mockingly, rapping on the door behind him to alert Luke to their presence. The elusive prize of his attention was captured as Luke snapped his journal closed - and his head out of the clouds.  


“Huh-? Um. Oh.” He paused, embarrassed that Alex had caught him writing two times in a row. His voice was softer now, almost sheepish. “You made it,” he quipped dryly, as if he hadn’t just demanded their presence.  


“Yeah, we got that message, but apparently we missed the ‘go into total diva rockstar mode’ memo,” Reggie starts, taking a seat on the couch opposite his friend. “What’s gotten into you, dude?”  


“Look,” Luke sighed, shaking his head, “it’s not that I’m not thankful for this - for the chance to play. For the fans. But the fact is that-” his phone buzzed on the dressing room table, and all 3 boys groaned. “How did he find out _so_ fast… just… hold on. Give me a second.”  


The other two boys cringed, bracing for impact at the exchange that was about to occur.  


“What, Caleb,” Luke said flatly, flopping down in the closest chair.  


“I think you know exactly what,” Sunset Curve’s manager snapped on the other line, “You almost lost the crowd tonight because of your little disappearing act, Mr. Patterson. You’re lucky Reggie is smart enough to cover for your selfishness.”  


“My _selfishness_?” Luke spluttered, shaking his head in disbelief. “Oh, so that’s how we’re gonna spin this one, then, boss. I hate to break it to you, but I’m a _musician_. Creating music is _kind of_ what I do.”  


“Maybe on your own time.” Caleb replied shortly. “You’re on this tour - in this band - to give those people a good show, not run off pursuing your own personal projects. If you pull a stunt like that again, there _will_ be consequences. Do you understand?”  


“I-” rage simmered just below the surface of Luke’s voice, and he has to take a second to control himself. _Man, he hated this guy_. Ever since Caleb had become the band’s manager, the very essence of Sunset Curve had been stripped away piece by piece until some strange, color coordinated, sugar-sweet pop imposter was staring back at them. But… they still got to perform. They still had their fans that counted on them. “I understand,” he relented, wanting to punch a hole in the wall next to him.  


“Thank you. Now, are the other boys with you?”  


“No, they’re in Nebraska,” Luke snorted, “Where else would they be?”  


He could feel the older man’s annoyance - _score_. “Can you please put the phone on speaker. I have something to tell all 3 of you.”  


“Fine,” he rolled his eyes, cocking his head for the boys to come closer, then pressing the ‘speaker’ button on his phone screen. “You’re on, Your Highness.”  


“Alex! Reggie! Great show tonight boys - and good cover for your bandmate,” the jab was expertly executed. Reggie opened his mouth to interject, but their manager’s drawl continued - “I’ve booked a studio for you for the next few days at Eurydice to meet with some writers and hopefully pull together a new single. I’ll send the lead sheet the writers put together today and you can mess around with some variations before going in on Monday. You should get a schedule sent to you sometime this weekend.”  


“You got it, boss,” Alex replied tiredly, stifling a yawn.  


“Great. Well. I’ll be seeing you boys sometime this week, I have work to do with some of my other clients who are in town. Take care.”  


Reggie mock saluted before replying, “Goodnight, Caleb.”  


“Goodnight, Reginald.” The line clicked promptly, and the boys were left staring at each other bleary-eyed. The adrenaline crash after a show hit _hard_.  


Alex let out a low whistle as he turned to face himself in the mirror. “Well, that could’ve been worse.”  


“Much worse,” Reggie piped up, turning to find a hanger for his jacket.  


Luke remained silent as he started to change out of his concert attire, swapping a navy button-up for a cut up Styx tank top and matching dress pants for some ratty black jeans with a chain. Just a simple wardrobe adjustment felt like a breath of fresh air for the guitarist, and his irritated rough edges smoothed out again as he ruffled his hair in the mirror and crowned himself with a beanie.  


“Now that’s more like it,” he mumbles, addressing his reflection as the rhythm of strike pulsed around the boys with clockwork precision. From wardrobe whisking away their racks of attire to the sound ops stopping by and retrieving Luke’s guitar, every cog was whirring with an exhausted yet resilient purpose. Before they knew it, Sunset Curve was strolling out the back of the arena towards their bus, arms linked, eyes heavy with sleep.  


“I- uh- listen, guys,” Luke pulls Alex and Reggie closer on either side of him as they continue across the asphalt, “I’m… I’m sorry for how I acted after the show. How I treated everybody. It’s just been a big adjustment to playing music that’s not… really _ours_ , you know?” He pauses as he takes a breath. “ ...I feel like I’m fooling everyone.”  


“Luke.. do you not think we’re frustrated too?” Reggie asks, tugging absentmindedly at the cuff of his leather jacket, “Me and Alex built this up from the very start just as much as you did. And.. well… we’re not the band we used to be - whatever this is is _not_ Sunset Curve, no matter what Caleb says.”  


“We’re more like Sunset Swerve now,” Alex quipped dryly, earning a weak smile from Luke. “We worked so hard to get here - you especially, Luke. I get it. It’s not fair that Caleb’s treating us like dress-up dolls and shutting down our own music.” The reality hung heavy in the Los Angeles night air. Reggie’s eyes flicked to the pavement. Luke shook his head, bewildered. “But - but hey,” Alex begins again softly, glancing over at Reggie for reassurance, “Taking this out on people who can’t control it - who don’t even _know_ about it - isn’t gonna fly anymore, Patterson. I dunno if you just think it’s fun just to act like a rockstar, but that poor stagehand was scared to death when you hurled your guitar at her. Not cool.”  


“I - I know,” Luke mumbles, not meeting his friend’s eye. “I dunno what’s gotten into me. I’m sorry.” Whether he liked it or not, he knew that Alex was right. This was _their_ fight against Caleb, and no one deserved to be caught in that crossfire.  
  


They cross the rest of the lot to the bus in silence, climbing inside and heading straight for their bunks. It was the beginning of their second finale of the night - this one a comfortable, familiar quiet rather than the electrifying roar of a show. As they branch off into their own routines, getting ready to crash, Alex sees Reggie sitting on his bunk, lost in thought.  


It seemed that this performance was going to have an encore too.  


The drummer sighed as he pulled on a hoodie, then turned around to face his friend. “Mind if I sit?”  


It took a moment for Reggie to process his friend’s presence. Snapping himself out of a daze, he nodded. “Yeah, yeah, of course!” He replies through a yawn, scooting over to make room. “That was some show tonight, huh?”  


“It really was.” Alex offered a small smile before plopping down cross-legged at the end of the bunk. “It really can be a lot, though… How’re you holding up?” he pokes at the issue softly, attempting to draw Reggie’s concern out in the open. He absentmindedly tapped out a beat against the blankets.  


“I’m fine,” he starts, all too quickly; it was difficult for Reggie to express what he was _really_ thinking sometimes. He was supposed to hold the others up, not the other way around, with a goofy smile and an awful joke at the ready when band morale was low.  


“Yeah?” Alex raised an eyebrow at his friend, skepticism coloring his voice.  


The time that passed before he answered felt like hours. They heard Luke turn the sink on to brush his teeth, humming a few bars of the song they played for the encore that night.  


“Uh, no,” Reggie replied quietly, now that he knew Luke was occupied. “Not really.” Another eon’s worth of silence as he gathered up his courage. “Listen - I know exactly how Luke feels, and I’m the exact same way. It’s frustrating to lose sight of what the band’s all about. But… what we’ve got going here, it’s a little bit about the money, you know?”  


“-it _is_ a little bit about the money,” It’s Alex cracking the joke this time, and Reggie smiles at the confirmation before continuing.  


“I, uh… I’m hoping to save enough so me and my brother can move out when we get done with the tour. Like, for good. And if that means Caleb playing me like a violin for a while… I’m okay with that, you know?” he said softly, his eyes glassy with tears. “Of course it’s about the music, but I don’t wanna lose this, don’t wanna lose _you guys_. I know we’ll have a chance to be ourselves again. And I’m willing to hold out for that.”  


Alex nodded, putting his arm around Reggie’s shoulder. “We’ll make it out of this, Reg,” he said softly, trailing off into a comfortable silence.  


Luke’s head appeared in the doorframe, his toothbrush sticking out of his mouth. “Did I miss a moment?” he mumbles around the toothbrush, smiling best he could at his friends before turning and spitting out his toothpaste (Alex cringed slightly, which made Reggie bounce with a chuckle against his shoulder). Emerging from the bathroom, Luke perched precariously on the remaining free sliver of Reggie’s bunk before turning to face his friends. “Okay. So. I may or may not have an idea for our day off tomorrow.”  


Alex started to interject, but Luke was too fast for the drummer- “No, Alex, it’s not anything _illegal_ ,” he jokes, which prompts an ‘ _aww_ ’ from Reggie, “I was just thinking… we’re on home turf, right? What if we go down to the pier and play or something. Just like old times.”  


“...I like the sound of that,” Reggie smiled, looking over at Luke.  


“Alex? You in?” Luke raises an eyebrow, daring him to object.  


“I… well…” he stammers, trying to think the idea through as Luke and Reggie stare at him, pleading like little kids trying to get a chocolate bar. “Fine,” he caves, exasperated, as his bandmates launch into a celebration. “ _But_!” he pipes up, causing Luke and Reggie to freeze, “if this goes wrong - and it will - and if Caleb finds out about it - _and he will_ \- it’s not on me.”  


“Done,” Luke replies immediately.  


“Done!” Reggie seconds, and they all dissolve into laughter as they begin to settle in for the night.  


_Honestly, what’s the worst that could happen?  
_


	2. ii.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> meet julie and flynn, two of the summer interns at eurydice records! the molinas eat a lot of ice cream. julie's mom offers some encouragement. julie's dream come true turns a bit sour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> obviously, selena gomez and shawn mendes aren’t signed to eurydice records, because eurydice records isn’t real! ;) i chose the label’s name for this story as a play off of the orpheum - orpheus and eurydice. <3 so excited to share this chapter with you this week! i hope you enjoy! <3 thank you SO MUCH to dea who read through the first 2/3 of this fic for me and rachel for constantly encouraging me especially today!

Saturday night in LA: one of the most iconic settings of all time. Hours filled with the rush of a last-minute invitation to a party, the thumping bass of a concert that can be felt a mile away from the stadium, the forgotten murmur of a radio as a group of friends drives aimlessly about downtown, the neon of streetlamps and signs painting their faces: the things that make any respectable teenager feel _alive_. It was a Saturday night in LA, and, unfortunately... Julie Molina was deprived of all of these festivities for the evening. Her best friend got called into work that afternoon, but Flynn _swore_ to her she would make it up to her and stop by to hang out after her shift. In the meantime, Julie was laying on the floor in her room, curls splayed across the hardwood, scrolling aimlessly on her phone. 

It was a boredom-induced social media crawl: Snapchat, then Instagram, then Twitter... rinse and repeat. This turn of the carousel brought Julie to Carrie’s Snapchat, a flurry of updates posted all at once. 

“Of course she went,” Julie rolled her eyes as her nemesis’s perfectly manicured nails holding a Sunset Curve VIP pass appeared on her phone screen. The band’s completely sold-out stop in L.A. was the only topic of conversation around Los Feliz High School for the entire week, but Carrie was the only person she knew of who had scored a ticket any closer than the nosebleeds. _That’s the perk when your dad is in the music industry, I guess_ , the girl whose mom was _also_ in the music industry mused before flicking past some videos of Sunset Curve’s hits, barely audible over the cacophony of girls screaming. 

Eventually, her flurry of taps deposited her at what looked like Carrie’s photo from the VIP meet-and-greet: her perfect smile and probably couture fuzzy pink shawl framed between the 3 members of the band. Alex, Reggie, and…? Julie racked her brain for the lead singer’s name as the story transitioned to a final photo of Carrie and Kayla posing outside the stadium. She frowned as the information still wouldn’t surface - he was the frontrunner and _arguably_ the cutest member of the group; even if she wasn’t the biggest fan, Julie really should know this. 

A moment of inspiration struck. “Luke,” she blurted to no one in particular in a moment of triumph, looking straight up at the ceiling. “It’s Luke.” 

Somewhat proud that her cultural knowledge was still intact, Julie pulled herself up off the floor and stretched. Her phone buzzed as she picked it up: 

  


**disappointment <3**: omw!!! 

**disappointment <3**: excited 2 see u 

**jules’ iphone** : u literally saw me yesterday. 

**jules’ iphone** : but for the record. excited 2 see u too. MWAH 

**jules’ iphone** : don’t u dare txt me back while you’re driving. see u soonnn :)) 

  


After a quick assessment in the mirror, Julie left her room and headed downstairs to tell her parents Flynn was on her way. It was a quiet evening at the Molina house: they’d had dinner together earlier, and then went their separate ways for the night. Julie could hear the eccentric drone of the History Channel (her dad’s favorite) as she skidded into the kitchen, searching for any sign of life besides herself. 

While no one was present, an interesting spectacle was: perched perfectly on the kitchen counter were 5 pints of cookie dough ice cream - Julie’s favorite. A delighted gasp escaped her lips as she went for the treat - they must’ve been on sale and her mom was stocking up for her. Julie was a firm believer in a pint of ice cream and a romcom solving most any problem, and Rose Molina _certainly_ shared her daughter’s philosophy (and her sweet tooth). 

“Mom!” Julie called aimlessly into the house as she rifled through a kitchen drawer for a spoon, “You didn’t tell me you found ice cream on sale today! What’s the occasion?” 

The History Channel suddenly flicked off, and Julie swore she could hear her parents giggling in the living room at their daughter’s discovery. _Okay. Something was definitely up_. A few butterflies found their way into her stomach as her mind whirred with sudden anticipation: what were they about to spring on her? 

Julie’s parents filed into the kitchen, the small smiles on their faces threatening to blossom into grins at any second. Carlos trailed behind them, smiling smugly at their antics. Julie raised an eyebrow suspiciously as she surveyed the reversed roles of her family: her mom and dad never schemed, and since when did Carlos act like _he_ was supervising? 

“Sooo… You got something you wanna say?” She asked playfully, leaning against the counter on her elbows. 

“Actually, I think you have something to say for _yourself_ ,” her dad quipped, crossing his arms and looking over at his wife. 

“Your dad is right - you have some explaining to do.” Julie’s mom played along with the bit, leveling Julie with a barely serious stare. “Honestly, how did you do it?” 

Julie’s eyes widened in confusion as she tried to process what was going on - she’d really done nothing worth a confrontation this week… “I- what?” she asks, jitters creeping over her like she was about to perform at school. 

“Oh, come on, guys, you have to do this to her?” Carlos scolded, rolling his eyes. “ _Enough_ with the theatrics. Julie, your letter from Eurydice came today. You got the internship!” he announced proudly, and time seemed to freeze as Julie went into shock. 

_She’d gotten the internship?_ She hadn’t even expected to hear back from the record label _at all_ , much less secure one of the two performance program spots for the summer. The prestigious label was offering summer internships for the first time ever, with two students accepted per track: performance and tech. When the application had been published, Mrs. Harrison brought it to Julie’s attention one day at school, claiming the performance track would be an exceptional fit for her. It was described as a split emphasis on writing and business, which allowed the interns to learn how to best stake their claim in the industry when they wanted to go professional. 

Also with some gentle prodding from Mrs. Harrison, Flynn gravitated to the tech internship - a program where opportunities included working with some of the top sound ops and audio engineers in the world ( _‘Maybe they’ll end up learning something from you, if they’re lucky,’_ Julie had joked as they walked out of the classroom, which made Flynn attempt a swat at her arm). 

Julie smiled politely at her suggestion, but never considered herself good enough to even be competitive in the application process. It was a dream (an incredible, potentially _life-changing_ dream) lurking in the back of her mind, and nothing more. 

But then Mrs. Harrison emailed her _mom_ about the program. 

After that, there was no going back. 

A proud alumna of Eurydice Records, Rose Molina of the now retired Rose and the Petal Pushers would _not_ take no for an answer about Julie applying for the internship. In fact, she sat beside her while she filled it out to make sure she hit submit. Coaching her about word choice in her resume and even editing Julie’s song submission for her, Rose was determined to see her daughter succeed at what she loved. 

And succeed she did. Tears sprang to Julie’s eyes as soon as Carlos’s words sank in, and she let out an excited yelp as she looked at her mom holding the crisp envelope emblazoned with Eurydice’s lyre logo. 

“Congratulations, _Mija_ ,” her mom said warmly, and before Julie could take a single step forward her family had enveloped her in a group hug. 

“I can’t believe it,” Julie managed to choke out, a few tears rolling down her cheek as her dad started to pass around the ice cream. “Let me see the letter!” 

She paused as the realization struck her. “Wait… 5 pints of ice cream?” she asked warily, looking at her mom. 

Her mom winked. “You didn’t think we forgot about Flynn coming over, did you? We _all_ have something to celebrate.” There was a telling glint in her eye, a clue to a puzzle that was larger than Julie originally thought. The pieces slid into place as Julie turned to see her best friend walking through the front door. 

“You didn’t.” She looked straight at her, breathless with excitement. 

“I did.” Flynn replied simply, then her face blossomed into an enormous grin. “Surprise!” The friends’ screams bounced off the walls as Julie was locked in her second embrace of the evening. 

“When did you find out?!” 

“My mom called me on my way to my shift today.” 

“No. Way. I am so excited for you!” She takes another pause as the information processes. “On the way to your shift? That means- hold on- _you guys_!” She spluttered, her gaze flicking from her mom to Flynn and back. 

“Double surprise!” Flynn sing-songed jokingly, as she scooped up the fifth ice cream pint off the counter. “It was your mom’s idea about the ice cream, though. She texted me on my break.” 

“I can’t believe you all. Thank you so much,” Julie beamed graciously at her mom as they all clustered around the counter, peeling the plastic off the top of their pints and digging in. After a few spoonfuls of chocolate chip bliss, she looked over at Flynn with a fire in her eyes. 

“This,” she declared, sneaking in another bite of ice cream in favor of a dramatic pause, “is going to be the best summer _ever_.”  


  


  


Hyped up on sugar and the incredible news of the evening, Julie and Flynn were crashing on the floor in Julie’s bedroom, pop music playing from the speakers of her laptop. Flynn would look up every single artist as they played, looking to see if they were signed to Eurydice. So far, the biggest stars were Shawn Mendes and Selena Gomez, but there were a few other artists that the girls loved. 

“What do you know… Eurydice has _taste_! Not just in interns, but in artists, too,” Flynn joked, and they erupted into giddy laughter about their new reality all over again. Julie was texting a few friends the news as a Sunset Curve song came on the playlist.

  


**jules’ iphone** : [1 img] 

**jules’ iphone** : u won’t believe this but… SURPRISE! 

**nick** : JULES. UR KIDDING ME! 

**[FaceTime call from nick] **  
****

  


********

Julie’s eyes widened as Flynn gasped at something on her own phone. Their words stumbled over each other. 

********

“ _Sunset Curve is signed with Eur-_ ” 

********

“NICK IS FACETIMING ME RIGHT NOW.” Julie interjected frantically, frozen as her phone buzzed impatiently in her hand. 

********

An incredibly cute guitarist and captain of Los Feliz’s lacrosse team, Nick had become a friend to Julie over the last school year - much to his girlfriend’s chagrin. Carrie and Nick had been dating since eighth grade, but ever since her and Julie’s falling out, it was made very clear that she did not approve of her boyfriend even acknowledging Julie’s existence. In a rare act of rebellion, however, Nick reached out to her for study help in their history class. 

********

Group study sessions turned into the occasional text that turned into a friendship Julie didn’t even realize she’d missed. Nick was so talented, and smarter than he gave himself credit for, and the way that his hair would fall in front of his face when he tuned his guitar was _so_ cute… 

********

Well. It was safe to say that sometimes Julie wished they were a little more than friends. If only he saw Carrie the way she really was… 

********

“What are you doing, Jules? _Answer him_!” Flynn hissed, her bit of trivia abandoned as she hit her best friend with a pillow. “Don’t say I’m here, though. That might make him feel weird.” 

********

Julie rolled her eyes as she attempted to digest the butterflies in her stomach, steeling herself to swipe the ‘answer’ button. With a chime, Nick’s currently messy blonde hair and blinding smile appeared on her screen. Her heart skipped a beat. 

********

“Julie, I am so excited for you!” he beamed, a hint of awe in his voice. “Eurydice! _Eurydice_!” 

********

“I know, it’s so crazy!” she smiled back. _Did she mean the internship or the fact that this call was happening right now_? She honestly didn’t know herself. “I was just reading over all the stuff in the letter. Apparently we can go get registered through security and get our badges and all that tomorrow.” 

********

“That’s awesome,” he said in such a genuine tone Julie thought she might go into cardiac arrest. “I just had to call you. A text just wouldn’t be enough to congratulate you, y’know? Powerhouse Julie Molina deserves better than that.” 

********

“You’re too sweet. Thanks,” Julie blushed. A powerhouse. He thought she was good. _What kind of world was she living in right now_? 

********

“Of course!” he replied. They both sat in silence for a moment. “Well, um, it’s getting pretty late,” Nick realized bashfully as he pushed his hair out of his eyes. “I won’t keep you. But I’m _so_ proud of you, Molina. See you on Monday?” 

********

“Yeah, see you then,” she waved, smiling as the call ended. 

********

The girls stared at each other in a moment of stunned silence before Julie collapsed onto the hardwood in a fit of giggles. “I think this just might be the best day ever,” she proclaimed as Flynn shook her head, laughing.

“I don’t know _what_ you see in someone who thinks Carrie is girlfriend material, but you do you,” she grinned at her best friend knowingly as she stood up to stretch. “On that note, I think I’ve gotta head out. See you at Eurydice?” 

“Yeah, see you there!” Julie beamed. “Thanks for coming over to celebrate. I seriously can’t believe we get to do this together.” 

“Me either. I guess that’s Double Trouble for you, though - inseparable.” 

“Inseparable.” she echoed, pulling Flynn in for one last hug. “Goodnight, Flynn.” 

“Goodnight, Jules! See you soon.” 

Julie flopped down on her bed with a sigh as Flynn closed her bedroom door, the excitement of the evening finally catching up to her.  


  


It was a struggle to get sleep that night, but Julie managed, tossing and turning as the reality of her summer was settling upon her. With one chime of her alarm she bolted awake, clamoring to set foot in Eurydice’s LA office for the first time. 

Her morning routine passed by in a dazed blur until she was sitting in the driver’s seat of her car, heart racing with excitement. As she put the office into her GPS and selected a playlist for the morning drive, Julie was startled by a knock on her window. 

Her head snapped up in surprise to see her mom smiling tiredly back at her, mug of coffee in hand. “ _Oh_ ,” Julie mouthed, dissolving into laughter as she rolled down her window. “Mom, you _scared_ me!” 

“Sorry, _mija_ \- I just wanted to wish you good luck before you headed out!” she laughed, “You know, it _is_ a pretty big day.” 

“I’m just picking up my badge and meeting the coordinator today. I’ll probably be back before lunchtime,” Julie said lamely, attempting to downplay her nerves. 

“Well,” Rose started, taking a thoughtful sip from her mug, “Full day or no, you’re standing right on the edge of something new. I hope you have an incredible time,” she smiled, leaning through the window to kiss her daughter’s head, “Step into your greatness, sweetheart.” 

“I will.” Julie beamed at the saying she must’ve heard a thousand times in her life as she shifted the car into reverse. “I’ve got to head out if I want to make it on time, though- love you!” she exclaimed as she backed the car out of the driveway. 

“Love you too, Jules!” Rose waved excitedly from the front porch as she watched her daughter drive off into a new world.  


  


Julie sat in her car in the parking garage of Eurydice Records, adrenaline coursing through her veins. A red parking pass marked with the same lyre logo as her acceptance letter was now dangling from her mirror, the first check off her list of things to accomplish at the office that day. 

Maybe it was the _only_ task she needed to accomplish? She could just drive back home and call it a day right now. Doubt and nerves stacked on top of each other as she stared at the handle of her car door. The thought of opening it was honestly terrifying - opening it meant getting out and getting out meant proving herself to the people behind the shiny front doors of the label. 

Her hand fiddled instinctively with the dahlia pin fastened to her jacket. Her mom’s words in the driveway echoed in the back of her mind: ‘ _You’re standing right on the edge of something new… step into your greatness._ ’ Julie took a deep breath. _Inhale, exhale_. 

The encouragement provided the burst of courage she needed; Julie slowly opened the car door and slid out of the driver’s seat. “Let’s just hope it’s the edge of something great,” she mumbled to herself as her footsteps echoed across the cavernous garage towards the elevator. 

As the doors of the elevator opened into the lobby of Eurydice Records with a pleasant _ding_ , Julie’s eyes widened in awe. It was a bright, massive space, with high ceilings and framed photos of signed artists spaced out along the walls. The morning sun streamed into the lobby through the enormous glass front doors, making sets of expensive red couches and chairs glow as if they were on fire. Julie took a deep breath and smiled as she stepped out of the elevator. 

She walked towards what she could only assume was the reception desk - a gleaming golden ring stationed in the center of the lobby. Flynn was already standing there, talking to a kind-looking woman holding a stack of clipboards. 

Julie’s steps quickened at the sight of her best friend, and Flynn waved enthusiastically at her as she came to stand beside her. 

Before Julie could even say hello, the woman Flynn was talking to smiled at her. “Good morning! You must be Julie.” She offered her hand to shake. 

“Yes, that’s me!” Julie replied, returning both her smile and her handshake. 

“Excellent. I’m Lessa, Eurydice Records's internship director. It’s so nice to finally meet you!” 

“You, too!” Julie felt her nerves slowly evaporating at this warm welcome. “This… is an _awesome_ space.” 

“I know, right? The lobby just got remodeled a few months ago. I wish I could say the same for the office we’ll be working in, but, you know.” Lessa quipped dryly. Flynn and Julie both looked at her a little blankly, the joke landing poorly. “Anyway! Now that we’re all here, you can get started on your paperwork.” she continued, indicating the clipboards in her arms. 

“Wait- I thought there were two people per track?” Flynn interjected, raising an eyebrow. 

“Well, yes, there are.” Lessa replied. “Flynn, your partner won’t be here until later this week because of a prior engagement, but otherwise you’re all accounted for.” 

“Where’s my partner?” Julie asked. 

A click of heels and a distinct voice approaching behind her quickly answered her question. “I’m so sorry about that, Lessa, I had to take a call from my choreographer- you know how rehearsal schedules can be!” 

Flynn’s reaction confirmed Julie’s suspicion as her stomach sank. Joining their circle was none other than Carrie Wilson, all business with her strawberry-blonde hair wrapped neatly into a bun. 

It was safe to say Carrie’s realization to her counterparts mirrored Flynn’s, but she gained her composure much faster. “Julie! Flynn! What a surprise.” Her voice dripped with such a fake sweetness that Julie almost gagged. 

“Oh! You three know each other already?” Lessa asked, obviously delighted. “How wonderful!” 

“We go to school together,” Julie offered in a strained voice, trying to restrain her dread. 

“And now we get to spend all summer together! Isn’t that the best, Flynn?” Carrie’s smile didn’t reach her eyes as Lessa handed them all their paperwork. 

The three didn’t speak much for the rest of the morning. 

The proceedings were fairly normal - Lessa gave them a brief tour of the offices as their badges were processed, and they had coffee in a studio lounge with some of the audio engineers. Before Julie knew it, the hours had flown by, and her and Flynn were standing with Lessa back where they started at the reception desk. Carrie had had to leave just a few minutes early to make a last minute Dirty Candy rehearsal, and it felt like the girls were finally able to breathe again in her absence. 

“Julie, Flynn, thank you so much for coming in today- it has been so lovely meeting you.” Lessa said graciously, “I can’t wait to start working together tomorrow. I’ve heard you’re going to get to meet with some very high-profile clients this week, so come ready to observe.” There was a twinkle in her eye, and Julie and Flynn exchanged a curious glance. 

“Who is it?” Flynn asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Let’s just say… I’m sure you’re familiar with them. Have a good rest of your day, girls!” Lessa smiled cryptically, and Julie and Flynn turned the statement over in their minds as they walked to the elevator. 

  


Flynn had followed Julie back to her house to hang out for the rest of the day. They were in the kitchen, Julie working on some quesadillas for the two of them and Carlos for a late lunch while Flynn was perched on a barstool. “I can’t believe we’re spending all summer with Carrie,” Julie whined as she flipped the first quesadilla carefully. “I knew this was all too good to be true.” 

For once, the invitation to complain about their least favorite classmate seemed to fall on deaf ears: Flynn was engrossed in something on her phone. 

“Earth to Flynn,” Julie sing-songed, waving her spatula between her friend and her phone to no avail. 

“You know what Lessa said? About how we were going to observe some high-profile client or whatever?” Flynn’s voice sounded far away. 

“Uh, yeah. Why? Do you think we’re gonna meet Shawn Mendes or something?” Julie joked, turning her attention back to the pan. 

“No, not quite… but I think I might have figured out who. Come look.” 

“Uhh, okay,” Julie laughed nervously, turning the quesadilla out onto a plate before coming to the other side of the counter. 

Flynn wordlessly flicked to an Entertainment Weekly article that had been posted half an hour ago. 

The headline, tagged ‘BREAKING,’ read, ‘SUNSET OVER SANTA MONICA: Boy band disaster at Santa Monica Pier.’ Below the headline were photos of boys… busking? Fleeing? Diving into the ocean? The progression was a comedy of errors, but then the realization hit her. 

Julie’s spatula clattered to the floor. 

Those boys were Sunset Curve. Sunset Curve was still in LA… probably because they had business at Eurydice Records. 

Business that literally involved Julie and Flynn.


	3. iii.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the boys discover the terrifying power of social media and 15-year-old girls. reggie and luke take a swim. alex has to drive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello again! :-) i hope you’re doing well! i apologize that this is a bit of a late update: these past couple weeks have been difficult and it was hard to find a) inspiration and b) time to write at all, haha! an ENORMOUS shoutout to rachel for helping me develop the hilarious pit the boys dig for themselves in this chapter and for just being the best all around. i hope you all enjoy! <3

Alex woke up to 2 things on Sunday morning: first, the insistent pinging of his alarm, and second, Luke Patterson’s elbow digging into his ribs. 

“Hey, what’s that for?” Alex snapped, stifling a massive yawn. 

“Turn it off,” Luke groaned, half asleep, “‘S our day off, Alex, turn it off!” 

The alarm continued to ring brightly from across the small space, unbothered by Luke’s slander against it. Alex sat up from his cramped position between his bandmates to stretch, taking his sweet time to get up and address the issue. 

Even on home turf, the boys had chosen to stick together rather than check into a hotel like they usually did for an extended stop or go crash at their parents’ houses. They’d all discussed the importance of staying in the ‘band mindset,’ so that no one was off their game when they headed out for the second leg of the tour the following week. 

_Obviously_ it was only about the band and putting their work first. It definitely wasn’t about the uncertainties that lurked behind the idea of coming home, of facing unapproving parents or impossible standards or less-than-ideal family situations. Their worries, expressed on the road through songs scribbled in journals or fearful murmurs to each other in the middle of the night, could be faced another day. And when that day came… well, there would always be another day to push them back to. 

Reggie’s worries about the band also offered a welcome excuse from facing their demons - there was no way that Alex and Luke could abandon their friend in a time of need. They’d cryptically insisted on still sleeping on the bus, to which their driver caved, and consoling conversations concluded with all three boys dozing off squeezed into a single bunk. 

“You _said_ you wanted today to be just like old times. I thought that included waking up at the crack of dawn to find a good spot at the pier,” he joked, feigning innocence as Luke rolled over with a huff. A faint chuckle escaped the Reggie-shaped pile of blankets on the drummer’s other side, and now the trio was officially awake. 

“Morning, Reg,” Alex greeted as he climbed unceremoniously over Luke (who grunted in protest) and made his way to his phone. 

“Morning!” he replied brightly, breaking out of his cocoon to roll over and face his friends. “I can’t believe we’re actually doing this.” 

“Yeah, me either, honestly.” Alex could feel the dread settling in his stomach as he flicked absentmindedly through Twitter. “Are you… sure this is a good idea?” 

“Of course it is!” Luke said incredulously as he crawled out of bed, stretching. “ _No one_ knows we’re going. Caleb’s busy with who-knows-what for the entire week. You know what that means, right?” 

“I… can wear flannel in public?” Reggie offered, only half-joking. 

“Well, yeah, that too, I guess,” Luke cocked his head to the side in acknowledgment before delivering his intended revelation: “We get to play our own music!” 

Alex’s head whipped up from his phone, blonde locks flopping in front of his face in protest: “Hold on. I didn’t even think about that,” he said, his voice almost a whisper. 

The drummer beamed as Reggie laughed, giddy with excitement. “Neither did I. Sunset Curve is _back_ , baby! One afternoon only!” he proclaimed jokingly, bounding out of bed and straight into the bathroom to get ready. 

“Exactly, guys, exactly! We’ve got the chance to play without some exec breathing down our necks to ‘uphold an image’ or whatever,” Luke spits the phrase he’s heard a thousand times over the past year as he rifles through his bag to find something to wear. “Finally free from all that _pressure_ for a day.” a true smile spread across his face for the first time in days, then a detail hit him square in the face. “Hey, Alex, uh, speaking of it being like old times…” 

Sometimes Luke swore Alex could read minds. “They already have a car for me here to drive.” he replied nonchalantly, to which the other two boys whooped excitedly. Alex was the only band member who had made the effort to get his driver’s license in the midst of their rapid success, even though Luke _swore_ he could drive just as good as Alex could (Alex had given him the wheel once in a parking lot in Nashville so he could prove just that. Afterwards, Luke conveniently forgot that he had ever made that claim). 

“As long as _I_ control the music, I’ll make sure we end up at the pier in one piece.” 

The threat landed as intended, and as the boys gleefully packed their instruments into the trunk of the car their tour manager had provided, the unmistakable refrains of the _Mamma Mia!_ film soundtrack echoed through the parking lot. 

\- 

A junior at Los Feliz High School, and current vice-president of the National Honor Society, Paige Davis did not expect her Sunday morning to amount to anything of recognition. Her coworker had flaked on her for the opening shift at Petals on the Beach’s Santa Monica location, but she wasn’t particularly complaining about it: the bike shop was never overbearingly busy anyways, and now Paige got to bask in the midmorning sun streaming through the open front doors alone. Music mingled with the golden rays, drifting in from somewhere down the street as she took a sip of her iced latte. 

The girl scrunched her nose in thought as she leaned against the front counter: the song was faint, but it was _good_ , even if she didn’t recognize the melody. _If some buskers could make it off their original music, good for them_ , Paige thought, smiling as she reached down to grab her backpack. The pier was usually preyed upon all too often by out-of-tune ukuleles and mediocre covers anyway. 

(Anyone who lived in Los Angeles thought it was their divine right to develop some profound opinion on the local music scene.) 

She unzipped her backpack and unceremoniously set her calculus textbook on the counter with a _thunk_ : with business at a crawl, it wouldn’t hurt to get a jump start on her assignment due the next day. She sat for a while, undisturbed, the methodical taps of her graphing calculator acting as a hi-hat for the buskers playing outside. 

They seemed to be drifting closer, the unfamiliar songs yet inexplicably familiar voices growing louder with every piece. A smattering of applause from passerby indicated another migration, and before she knew it the group was standing right outside Petals. Calculus had been abandoned for social media at this point, and Paige looked up from her phone to squint at the trio reassembling their gear before launching into another song. 

Ironically, she wasn’t paying much attention to the lyrics now that they were finally comprehensible, but the boys themselves. It was safe to say they were _crazy cute_ \- and somehow very familiar. There was no way she’d seen them around the shop before, though; Paige would certainly remember these guys, either by their genuinely incredible music, or, in the guitarist’s case, his _arms_... 

A blush rose to her cheeks as the bassist - who could somehow pull off a leather jacket and a flannel in summer weather - caught her staring through the front door and shot her a wink. A giggle escaping her lips, Paige ducked down and retreated to her phone like a turtle into its shell. 

She’d paused her Instagram browsing on one of her classmate’s posts before being distracted by the buskers - Carrie Wilson was a friend of a friend, and fairly well known throughout Los Feliz’s student body. The girl’s post was from the night before, a documentation of the massive sold out Sunset Curve concert. The strawberry blonde was smiling pristinely between the members of the band at a meet-and-greet, and Paige couldn’t help but zero in on the dark-haired boy’s smile… 

Her mouth dropped open as she glanced back up at the bassist playing outside, plucking his instrument with a practiced ease. It was the same boy that Carrie had met the night before. Realization struck her like lightning. 

Sunset Curve was playing outside the bike shop she worked at. 

It was like her brain stopped working. _She had to tell someone_. Not knowing quite how to handle this discovery, Paige dropped a like on Carrie’s post before clearing the app and tapping over to Twitter.  
  


**@davispaigee** : i think sunset curve is playing outside my work rn. i’m fine. everything is fine u guys.  
  


Thirty seconds hadn’t passed before she received a notification.  
  


**@pattterson** : STOP DFLKGJ no WAY!! where do u work?  
  


Paige’s thumbs hesitated before replying. Was it fair to Sunset Curve to drop their location to fans? She knew how big of a deal they were, but didn't follow their success too closely - it seemed that they were having fun with a taste of anonymity playing down at the pier. 

Her finger hovered over the ‘delete’ button for her drafted reply. _But_ … an awful thought nagged at the back of her mind. Nothing interesting had happened to her all weekend. And in this moment, she had the power to change that.  
  


**@davispaigee** : santa monica pier! :-) they’ve been busking all morning on the street. it’s super cool!  
  


As she turned off her phone and laid it aside, the band’s song coming to an end, Paige truly had no idea the chaos she had just unleashed.  
  


**@sunsetcurveupdates** : surprise @sunsetcurveofficial performance?! fans are reporting the boys are busking at the santa monica pier. 

**@sunsetreggiearchive** : [1 vid] someone at the pier just posted this video from a coffee shop of the band literally busking on the street and it sounds like they’re playing new music??? i think i’m passing away. 

**@EW** : Surprise! @sunsetcurveofficial is still in LA, and performing even on their off day. Watch this hilarious vid of a man putting a dollar in Alex’s hat and telling the boys they have ‘some real potential.’ You... are absolutely right, sir.  
  


As Alex sat up on his cajon, the final chord of ‘Long Weekend’ ringing through the summer air, he couldn’t help but feel uneasy as he observed the crowd forming around them. Sure, people had hovered briefly on the sidewalk as they heard them play, occasionally innocently dropping a dollar in Alex’s hat (an act that the boys genuinely thanked their patrons for every time), but the energy of the steadily-growing half moon felt… off. Hungry, even. These were no pleasantly surprised joggers, or moms pushing strollers pausing their walks to listen. _This_ crowd was overwhelmingly made up of the most terrifying demographic of all: teenage girls. Fans were nice enough at meet and greets, but most unexpected encounters with their target demographic resulted in stalkerish catastrophe. 

He laughed nervously, tugging at the hem of his hoodie as the band acknowledged the applause. A quick glance between them all confirmed their greatest fear as their audience lapsed into an expectant silence. _They’d been found out_. Since when was it a good idea for Luke to convince them to come out and play without any security anyways? Also, how did anyone even find out they were here? 

A few girls had their phone cameras out now. Alex absentmindedly tapped a few beats on his cajon. The morning’s idyllic routine of play, chat, migrate had been catastrophically destroyed, leaving whatever this awkward mess was in its wake. 

Luke’s eyes were glued to the ground as he adjusted his beanie self-consciously. Reggie plucked a few strings of his base lamely, pretending to check the instrument’s tuning. A girl near the front of the circle who looked around the guys’ age broke the silence: “You… you guys are Sunset Curve, right?” The question was barely a whisper, as if its asker were in the presence of something sacred. 

Reggie looked like he was about to pass out. Luke inhaled sharply, scuffing the toe of his sneaker against the sidewalk. Alex’s eyes flicked from one boy to the other, exasperated that someone wasn’t stepping up already. 

If you can’t get something done right, you just have to do it yourself. 

“I mean, who’s asking?” Alex replied, a nervous laugh escaping his lips as the crowd erupted into chattering chaos. 

“Luke!-” a girl started, but the guitarist whipped his head up and interrupted. 

“-How you doin’?” He threw out his signature line, a smile plastered sloppily on top of obvious panic, and the chatter grew to a dull roar. 

Reggie’s eyes widened as a wave of phones rose up, a few girls shouting questions that never reached his ears. This… was bad. They couldn’t have powers-at-be discovering that they’d snuck out and played originals _in public_. He rocked back and forth on his heels, racking his brain for what to do next. Fight or flight? They couldn’t fight - _obviously_ , they would never treat their fans that way - or engage with the crowd. That would bring far too much attention to Sunset Curve’s off-day escapade. So that left one choice. 

A girl was approaching hesitantly to request a selfie. 

“Hey, Luke?” Reggie said, his voice small. 

“What?” Luke replied through gritted teeth. Alex glanced between them, tense, as if he were watching a tennis match. 

“I think we should run.” 

“I think you’re right. Hit the pier!” Luke spluttered, and the two band members with _mobile_ instruments took off without warning as fast as their legs could carry them. 

“Really, guys?” Alex shouted after them, standing and scooping up his drum as fast as he could. The crowd gaped in front of him at what had just occurred, and he offered a tired wave. “Maybe _don’t_ tell your friends about this one, okay?” he huffs, shoving his hat back on his head with their earnings still inside. 

With a panicked “Thank you, Santa Monica!” Alex tore off down the sidewalk in hot pursuit of his friends. 

Nearly tripping as he tried to keep Luke and Reggie in his sightline, with a frenzied mob of teenage girls at his heels, Alex hustled to somehow get lost in the crowd and didn’t stop until he reached the dead center of the pier. Luke and Reggie were heaving trying to catch their breath, and Reggie seriously looked like he was about to throw up. 

“Dude. You look, like, yack-in-a-bowl nervous right now. _Well_ ,” Alex reconsidered jokingly as he shifted his cajon from one arm to the other, “More like yack-in-the- _ocean_ nervous. Apologies.” 

“Ha-ha, Alex,” Reggie wheezed, the neck of his bass nearly touching the ground as he bent over to catch his breath, “You’re hilarious. And _you’re_ an _idiot_ ,” he shot at Luke, who nodded without protest. “Go to the pier! Don’t tell anyone! It’ll be just like old times!” the boy chorused mockingly before continuing, “Well, last time I checked, old times didn’t include girls literally asking me to give them my flannel and then actually trying to take it!” 

“Relax, man, we’re gonna make it out of this,” Luke insisted as he glanced back towards the entrance to the pier. “Uh. Probably.” 

“What do you mean, probably?” Reggie asked, a hint of panic in his voice. 

“Well, you know, we’re not _invisible_. We have our instruments with us,” Luke snapped, tugging at his guitar strap with frustration. “And those girls have _eyes_. They’re trying to track us down right now!” 

“Let’s just keep moving, then,” Alex suggested quickly, and after a minute or two of weaving and bobbing there was tragically no room left for evasion: the rail that rimmed the edge of the pier pressed against their backs, seeming to mock their poorly chosen escape route. 

“Oh, my word, there you guys are!” a girl wearing one of their tour t-shirts squealed, towing a few other fans behind her. “This is so cute! Were you trying to set up for a video on the pier?” she asked, her gaze bouncing off each boy with calculated precision. 

“Well. Not quite.” Reggie squeaked, and the ominous half-moon was officially re-forming as more and more fans caught up to them. 

They... were trapped. Reggie had heard of a captive _audience_ , but a captive _act_? There was no way to escape this situation unscathed _or_ unposted. 

Luke swallowed a lump in his throat, wondering how PR was going to murder them when they walked into Eurydice the next day. Hopefully Caleb would be too busy to see them… hopefully there wouldn’t be some malevolent consequence for what was intended to be an innocent outing. 

Luke smiled blankly, helplessly, for a few photos, quietly declining song requests as he tapped his foot frantically against the weatherbeaten boards. He had to leave. Somehow, someway; this pressure from all sides made him feel like he was going to _explode_. 

His mouth curved into a small ‘o’ as divine inspiration struck: he glanced over at Alex, who had sat down on his cajon, defeated. The drummer would forgive him for what was about to occur someday, right? He had to. Maybe just in time for their reunion tour fifty years from now. 

“Alex?” 

“Yeah?” 

“I’ll… uh… be right back. Catch.” In one fluid motion he removed his guitar and shoved it towards his friend (who grabbed it, bewildered), then turned and leapt over the barrier straight into the arms of his rescuer: the murky (but 100% mob-free) Pacific Ocean. 

The crowd of fans cried out in surprise as Alex and Reggie looked at each other in shock. So much for playing it low today… if darting offstage to write down some lyrics was considered a stunt, Alex dreaded to find out how their team was going to react to this disaster. 

Reggie rocked on his heels as he turned to look down at Luke, brown hair clinging to his forehead as he treaded water, a satisfied smile on his face. 

“Luke, is it cold?” Reggie called, and a few fans shrieked in delight. 

“ _Guys, I think Reggie’s going to jump too_ ,” a girl who was apparently livestreaming shouted before dissolving into laughter. “This is the weirdest thing the boys have… ever done for publicity, I think.” 

“It’s perfect! Come on in!” Luke shouted back at him, and fear struck Alex’s heart as he saw determination form in his bandmate’s eyes. 

“Reg. You’ve got to be kidding me.” Alex was clutching to Luke’s guitar for dear life, panic bubbling in his chest. They were really going to jump off a pier and leave him to protect their instruments. _Real_ team players, his bandmates. 

He wasn’t necessarily surprised, but he was a tad bit disappointed. 

“I’m sorry, bud, um. This is really freaking me out.” Reggie explained lamely. 

“Dude, so what you’re telling me is if your friend jumped off a pier, you would, too?” Alex raised an eyebrow at his friend, only half joking. 

“Exactly. I think you really get me.” the bassist gushed sincerely before looping his bass strap around Alex’s shoulder and patting him on the back affectionately. A chant was going at this point from the fans - _‘Jump, jump, jump, jump!’_ \- and Reggie certainly catered to his audience by prepping ostentatiously for the dive. 

At the last moment, however, he hesitated. Whipping around, he removed his leather jacket and rested it on Alex’s shoulders like a cape. 

“I- come on!” Alex exclaimed, every ounce of fight in him giving way to exasperation. “I can’t believe I joined this band just to be your roadie when you want to jump into the ocean.” 

“Listen, that jacket is _vintage_ ,” Reggie stressed before turning around to face the edge of the pier, “I don’t wait to ruin it!” 

Reggie’s last sentence faded off into the ocean breeze as he immaculately swan dived into the ocean, leaving Alex alone in the middle of the pier. Sitting on his cajon. With two instruments and a cape. A cry of defeat escaped his lips as he bent over, exhausted. 

Out of all the messes his friends had put him through, leaving him to the dogs while they doggy- _paddled_ in the ocean had to be in the personal top 5.  
  


**@reggiesgirl** : [1 vid] poor baby alex at the pier today… i think we crashed whatever the guys were planning to do in santa monica but i can’t say i’m sry about it LOL. reggie’s dive? a perfect 10 <3 

**video transcript** : 

alex is sitting on a box drum holding luke’s guitar and reggie’s bass is hanging off his shoulder. occasionally, dollar bills mysteriously fall from his hat. reggie's leather jacket is draped around his shoulders like a cape. he grows more distressed as the video goes on. 

**a fan** : alex, can i hold luke’s guitar? 

**alex** , despondently: no, sorry. 

**a fan** : alex, how are you today? 

**alex** (taking a deep breath): bad. 

**a fan** : luke and reggie can swim, right? 

**alex** : unfortunately. 

you can hear luke and reggie laughing faintly, out of frame. alex moans loudly in despair. 

**alex** : i hate you guys! 

**luke** , faintly: we know! 

**(end of video)**  
  


“I literally had to give away my fanny pack to get everyone to go away while you guys had a playdate in the ocean. My fanny pack! My favorite one!” Alex exclaimed, glaring at his sopping wet friends in the rearview mirror. “For the record, I’m literally never going along with your plans again.” 

“Hey, you think you had it bad - my hands are all pruny from the water,” Reggie whined, but a slap from Luke on his forearm made him shut up almost instantly. 

“What he means to say is - we’re sorry for putting you in that position. It wasn’t right, and it wasn’t right of me to spring that surprise performance on everyone. Even if… you know… it was the most fun I’ve had in weeks.” the last sentence is murmured with a pang of regret as Luke shifted to look out the window, a pink-and-orange sunset blazing in the sky. 

“It’s- it’s fine. I just hope Caleb was too busy doing... whatever he does to realize the mess we made.” 

Reggie’s phone pinged, and about 10 seconds later he let out a terrified yelp. Alex jumped, nearly swerving into the next lane of traffic. 

“Watch it, Reg, you scared me!” he shook his head, attempting to calm his already shot nerves. 

“Uh. Sorry. Just got a text from Caleb.” 

Dread descended on the car instantly. 

“I… think he knows about the pier. And he’s _mad_.” 

“How do you know?” Luke asked quietly. 

“He sent me an article. And a single sentence.” 

“Well that’s not _inherently_ bad,” Alex said, trying to think positively about the situation. “People- people can send articles all the time. What does it say?” 

“‘Sunset Over Santa Monica-’” 

Luke gulped before interjecting. “-okay, that’s all we need to hear… what did he say about it?” 

Reggie looked up from his phone, fear shining in his eyes. “Please come to my office before you meet with the writers tomorrow morning.” 

All three boys groaned as Alex pulled into a parking lot to meet back up with their bus. 

Luke whistled. “Well... This should be fun, huh?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a brief note re: plot: the first fan acct. finds paige’s tweet bc they were probably searching ‘sunset curve’ and she popped up. the moment we’ve all been waiting for arrives next chapter… dude, we’re getting the band back together! thank you so much for reading and remember to be kind to yourself. <3


	4. iv.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> julie makes a coffee run. luke doesn't like to cooperate. carrie's just trying to do it right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW, it’s been a while, hasn’t it? i’m so excited to share this chapter with you! i officially have an outline for this story, which means… an actual chapter count! wow! i expect it to fluctuate by a few chapters by the time we’re done, but i’m so excited to have a clear direction for this story! julie’s spotify username comes from the fic @itsjulie by the wonderful megan/juulies (read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27405553, it’s IMMACULATE)! and once again a huge shoutout to rachel for continuing to support this fic!! <3

Julie’s caps lock was turned off on her phone. Caps lock was academic, productive, the epitome of order and emphasis. Structure was fine, certainly, when she lived amongst twelve-point Times New Roman lines in her classes at school, or spent way too long crafting emails to her guidance counselor, but even the most diligent students grow tired of scholastic protocol invading their lives outside the classroom. Julie allowed her schoolwork to seep into every corner of her life, glancing at history notecards in the stands at Carlos’s baseball games or falling asleep each night cramming for calculus. She did well in school, and even enjoyed the academic challenges that came with it, but consistently overbearing workloads had delivered her to the cusp of burnout. 

So, Julie turned her caps lock off. Drifting through Instagram captions and texts and lyrics typed frantically into her notes app between class periods, the lowercase letters that cascaded across her phone screen were possibly the most serene expression of rebellion to ever exist. Julie had never found enough courage to indulge in any conventional disobedience, so the rounded whispers of her own thoughts against the sharp, concise edges of her calculus notes sitting on her nightstand would simply have to do. 

She’d spent all of high school sheltering her phone from academia, but Julie had at last buckled to the pressure of a more pretentious typeface as she’d stood in the lobby of Eurydice Records yesterday afternoon, exchanging contact information with Lessa. She’d entered the intern coordinator’s details into her phone with a floundering attempt at professionalism before parting ways for the day]], a bit heartbroken she had betrayed her textual safe haven. 

The next morning Julie was laying in bed, soaking in the stillness of the Molina household at 6 AM, before her dad ran off to do a senior photo session or her mom took Carlos to baseball practice. It was peaceful somehow, getting up early, before the sun had the chance to filter in through her blinds. Or… it would usually be peaceful. Most summer mornings, Julie wasn’t trying to figure out how to make a good impression on a world famous boy band. 

_She was going to meet Sunset Curve_. No matter how many times she tried to process the impending events of the day, they refused to actually sink in, bouncing off of her mind like raindrops against a windshield. After reading through the Entertainment Weekly article at lunch, and combing through Sunset Curve’s sect of stan Twitter, it was crystal clear to Flynn and Julie that the boys were very much still in LA instead of continuing on with their North American tour. And, seeing as the band was signed to Eurydice, what other clients could cause Lessa to be so cryptic about their arrival? The conspiracy was foolproof, but if it somehow turned out to be untrue, Julie was going to be a bit disappointed. 

As she rolled out of bed to choose her outfit for the day, boy bands’ business fading to the least of her problems for the morning, Julie was interrupted by two capital letters glowing on her phone screen.  
  
  


**Ms. Lessa** : Good morning, Julie! Are you up?  
  
  


She paused en route to her closet, raising an eyebrow at the message as her mind bounced from one nervewracking scenario to another: improbable celebrity meetings to bosses already messaging her on her first full day…? Quickly, her thoughts began to wander. Maybe this was all a mistake. Maybe, somehow, Lessa mixed her up with a different Julie Molina entirely and she’s just telling her not to bother to come in and- 

A voice that mimicked her mom’s soothing tones interjected itself in the spiral. _Julie, she’s your boss. She’s going to text you like this probably the entire summer. You’ve earned this just like Carrie and Flynn have. Just respond._ She took a small deep breath to center her thoughts before unlocking her phone to reply.  
  
  


**jules’ iphone** : good morning! yes ma’am, i am :-) 

**Ms. Lessa** : Oh good. Can I ask a favor of you before you come into the office today? 

**jules’ iphone** : absolutely! what is it? 

**Ms. Lessa** : The clients you’re observing today had their personal assistant send over their coffee orders so they could be ready by the time the writing session starts this morning. Could you run through Starbucks and grab them for me? Will definitely Venmo you back when you get here.  
  
  


A relieved laugh passes Julie’s lips as she sets her phone down on her dresser. It felt just like a movie - she was the intern going to get coffee. The request was humbling, and it dawned on her: just because she’s working with one of the top record companies in the world, she would still probably be getting a lot of coffee and making _a lot_ of copies this summer. (To be clear, she was infinitely okay with that.) After settling on a lilac-colored top with plaid patterned pants, Julie tapped out a reply to Lessa as she was walking to her bathroom to finish getting ready for the day.  
  
  


**jules’ iphone** : for sure! i’m almost ready, just send them over and i’ll swing through the drive through! 

**Ms. Lessa** : Julie. You’re the best. 

**Ms. Lessa** : 1 venti iced chai with almond milk, 1 grande black coffee with 2 shots of espresso, and a grande vanilla bean cream frappuccino.  
  
  
3 orders. For 3 high-profile band members. A switch flipped in her mind, and suddenly a mundane task became quite irrationally exciting. Julie had _Sunset Curve’s_ coffee orders sitting in her text messages right now. Whose was whose, she wondered… if she tweeted out the orders, their fans could probably match them up instantly. After applying her eyeliner with a few precise flicks and quickly choosing her earrings for the day, she was ready to head out the door.  
  
  


**jules’ iphone** : got it! should i pick up anything for you? :-) 

**Ms. Lessa** : Thank you so much for asking, but I’m ok. 

**Ms. Lessa** : It is on Eurydice’s $$ though, so if you’d want to get one for yourself… ;) 

jules’ iphone: haha, i might! thank you so much and see you soon! 

**Ms. Lessa** : Thank YOU, Julie! Meet you in the third floor lounge where we hung out yesterday.  
  
  


Snatching her keys off their hook by the front door and bounding down the porch steps to her car, Julie felt like she could conquer the world - or at least a Starbucks drive through - and still manage to be early to the writers’ circle. As she turned the key in the ignition and pressed shuffle on her playlist, it felt like she was stepping into one of the most amazing summers of her life.  
  
  


_good morning :)_ , a playlist by _itsjulie_ on Spotify: 

-canyon moon, harry styles 

-bon iver, mxmtoon 

-ms. california, beach bunny 

-budapest, george exra 

-invisible string, taylor swift 

**+more**  
  
  


The writers’ circle meeting started at 7:30, and it’s 7:35 by the time Julie’s throwing her car door open, cradling a cardboard drink tray and doing everything in her power not to freak out. She’d underestimated just how brutal a Starbucks line in downtown L.A. could be during morning rush. Even with her early departure from home, Julie felt punctuality slip between her fingers as she sprinted through the Eurydice Records parking garage, pearl-studded chain bouncing against her hip. 

Presenting her badge to security and jumping in one of the shiny elevators she’d gawked at the day before, Julie was forming a string of apologies on her lips as she desperately willed her heart rate to slow down. What had began as an ideal morning had quickly devolved into chaos, and she desperately hoped that Sunset Curve didn’t hate her before they even had a chance to meet her. 

The doors to the studio floor opened with a clear _ding_ , and Julie nearly launched herself into Lessa in her hasty exit, who was waiting right outside. 

“Oh, my goodness, Lessa, I am _so sorry-_ ” 

“Julie! Please. You don’t need to worry about a thing, I promise you. You look great, you have coffee, and the meeting only _just_ started… if anything, they’ll be happy to see you.” 

Julie’s smile didn’t reach her eyes, her heart pounding at the potential disaster to come. “If you say so.” 

“I _know so_. Now come on, I’ll walk you to the studio.” 

It turned out to be a short journey down a nearby corridor, the only sound coming from the ice jingling from 2 of the drinks in Julie’s hands. They reached a studio with a sign that read ‘SUNSET CURVE,’ with the Eurydice lyre logo displayed proudly beneath it, and Julie took a deep breath. 

“Alright, this is your stop. Have fun, okay? We’ll debrief what you observe later.” Lessa smiled, beginning to turn back down the hallway. 

“Okay. Talk to you later!” Julie smiled weakly, and suddenly it was just her and the door and a lukewarm black coffee weakly heating one of her open palms. 

Not knowing entirely what to do, she haphazardly balanced the tray with one hand, knocking on the door with the other. 

A few seconds passed and the handle turned, revealing a blonde boy in a pink hoodie, smiling down at Julie. He looked near the brink of exhaustion, and it wasn’t even 8:00 yet. 

“Hi! You’re the other performance intern, right? Ah…” he paused, fumbling to remember her name. “Julia?” 

“Close! Julie,” she returned his smile, heart hammering in her chest. _What does she say now? Hi, I’m Julie, here’s your Starbucks, what corner is good for me to hide in?_

“Nice to meet you, Julie, I’m-” 

“-Alex, I know,” she cuts him off, at first giddy with recognition, but then she winced as the interruption sank in. “I’m. I’m sorry. You probably get that a lot.” 

“No worries, it happens a lot.” he smiles, and it’s still genuine, and a weight lifts off of Julie’s shoulders. Maybe these boys were more like real people than she’d ever expected. 

“I’m so sorry I’m late. Have I missed a lot?” 

“Not really, just formal introductions. We officially started just a few minutes ago, but, um,” he grimaces, “We haven’t gotten very far yet. I’m so sorry in advance.” 

“You don’t have to apologize.” 

“Oh, trust me. I do.” 

Motioning for Julie to pluck her drink out of the cardboard carrier, he sweeps the tray out of her hands and holds the door open for her, allowing Julie to jump headfirst into chaos. 

What was most likely a circle of civilized conversation just a few minutes before she’d arrived had turned into a war zone, Carrie being the only person in the room pristinely seated in a chair. She looked uneasy, and was hiding it the best she could. 

As for the room’s other inhabitants, there were two boys - Luke and Reggie, she assumed, and three writers, fighting for control like their lives depended on it. Luke was arguing with one writer at the top of his lungs, fighting and complaining about the piece - Julie caught ‘fake,’ ‘bubblegum,’ and ‘ingenuine’ from his rant, while Reggie was standing beside him, slackjawed, bass handing from the strap on his shoulder. 

One writer had headphones on, obviously working on the track they were monitoring, while the other two were tiredly coaxing Luke down off his hysteric musical ledge. 

“Just give it a shot, Luke, please,” one began, pleading. 

“I would seriously rather smash my guitar against the wall than work with these lyrics-” he spat, but seemed to freeze in place as Alex glided calmly into view with their drinks. “Alex, is that coffee? My coffee?” he asked, tone suddenly warm, and the writers’ shoulders sagged with relief as the drummer came to their rescue. _Maybe they would get some work done today after all._

“It is if you sit down, idiot,” Alex quipped, and Julie smiled. His ability to balance out a room reminded her a lot of Flynn. 

“Fine,” he grumbled, and Reggie trailed behind him, a small smile replacing the stress from the previous exchange ( _‘How did they know my favorite?_ ’). 

“ _And_ ,” Alex started, distributing the drinks to his friends as they restored order to the meeting by taking a seat, “you’re being rude in front of company. The other intern was late because she took the time to go get this for you, probably: this is Julie.” 

“Hi,” Julie smiled shyly, and made her way carefully towards the circle. Everyone offered her a greeting except Carrie, who she unfortunately had to sit beside. With Luke temporarily diffused, taking a long, satisfied swig from his cup, the writers began to gently discuss the song again, Reggie cutting in with ideas where he could. The scratch of Carrie’s pen on a notepad beside Julie made her a bit self conscious as discussion began to commence. _Should she be taking notes right now?_ Even more importantly, _should she be talking?_

Shaking that thought away, caffeine began to pleasantly course through her veins as Julie leaned back in her seat, the shaky peace of the writers’ circle restored at last. Luke still hid himself behind his coffee cup, taking a deep sip of his bitter concoction as the head writer began to discuss the flow of the chorus. Reggie nodded, plucking out a loose rhythm as he looked over the other’s shoulder. 

“Kind of like that?” he asked, brows scrunching together in concentration. The writer nodded, Alex interjecting with an idea about harmonizing the melody, and Julie couldn’t shake a feeling of intense deja vu. She felt like, instead of seated loosely around a keyboard in one of the best recording studios in the country, they were sitting in the hard-backed posture chairs in Los Feliz’s choir room, dissecting one of her classmate’s latest compositions. It felt exactly like Lyric Seminar from last semester, and with this realization, all her anxieties about proving herself to this group fell away: of course it felt like Lyric Seminar, because that’s all this circle is. A glorified Lyric Seminar filled with well paid bigshots and superstar 17 year olds instead of the vocalist program and Mrs. Harrison. 

Julie might not be able to navigate Hollywood as well as she’d like to yet, but she can _certainly_ do Lyric Seminar. 

A raspy voice snatches her out of her epiphany: “Yeah, okay, it sounds fine… but it’s missing something,” Luke mumbled, waving his coffee loosely in one hand, “it’s too simple. And certainly wouldn’t be any fun to play onstage.” 

“Well, if you changed the contour just a bit, you could add in an extra chord underneath the melody. To make the progression a little more complex.” The idea leaves her mouth and she hears it and it should be fine because it’s just Lyric Seminar, it’s glorified, middle aged Lyric Seminar, but Reggie and Alex and Carrie and the trio of writers are staring at her, slack-jawed, and Luke nearly chokes on his coffee and suddenly Julie feels _very_ small. 

“What do you mean?” the guitarist fires back at her before the others have a chance to pounce on the intern for speaking out of turn, and Julie hears Alex gulp from across the circle. 

“You just said… you said you wanted it to be. More fun. To play.” Does her voice always sound this tiny? 

“Yeah. But what do you _mean_. What would it sound like?” he sounds almost dismissive as he takes another swig from his coffee. 

“Oh. Uh.” she laughs, the sound shrill in the dead-silent space, and her gaze flicks to the head writer. “Do you mind-? If I use the keyboard?” 

“Not at all,” he dissents, almost immediately as he scoots his stool to the side. “If you can get this meeting going on the right foot, well… be my guest Ms.-?” he hesitates, smiling apologetically as her name escapes him. 

“Thank you! It’s Molina. Julie. Um. It might not be worth anything, but all you can do is try, right?” she replies, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she feels Carrie’s stare boring into her soul. Dragging her stool across the circle and sitting down at the instrument, she regains the nerve that filled her only a few seconds before. 

“So it’s like this right now, yeah?” she mumbles the melody under her breath on a ‘da’ as she harmonizes the chorus with Alex’s suggestion on the keyboard, pausing for verification. 

The writer merely nodded, encouraging her to continue. She nodded back in response, swallowing as her hands found the right position on the keyboard once more. 

“So _instead_ , we could…” she begins as usual, but walks up in the center of the line, emphasizing the chord change before concluding as before. “Yeah? I mean. It makes it a little more dynamic, at least.” 

She could’ve heard a pin drop in the silence that followed her brief presentation, and a weak ‘I’m sorry’ bubbled past her lips before she stood up awkwardly from the keyboard, her stool screeching uncomfortably as she scooted it backwards. 

“Ms. Molina, I hadn’t thought of that before,” the writer replied quietly before breaking into a smile. “I like it.” 

Julie released a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. 

“I do too,” Alex speaks up almost immediately, flashing a supportive smile in her direction. 

“It’s different, but in a good way,” Reggie seconds, and suddenly all eyes are on the remaining member of Sunset Curve. 

“What? I didn’t think I’d even have to say it. I like it,” Luke confesses, “It actually... makes me _like_ the chorus. A little bit.” 

Alex glanced over at Reggie as Julie returned to her seat, the two sharing an astounded look. _Whoever this girl was, she must be good_. 

“With _that_ modification,” the head writer cleared his throat, reclaiming his place at the keyboard, “would you be willing to run it, Patterson? First verse and chorus, then we can break.” 

“Why not,” he replies, flashing a smile straight at Julie as he stands up from the circle. The coffee seemed to have been the antidote for whatever had gotten into the lead singer before she’d arrived, as he looked relaxed for the first time all morning, his guitar looped around his shoulder. 

Alex mouths a tired ‘ _thank you_ ’ at Julie, and Reggie sends a wink her way as they take their places in front of the writers. One pulled up a voice memo on their cell phone and hit record, and Alex counted off Sunset Curve into the first verse of a single that was finally starting to stand up on its own. Julie’s eyes widened in amazement at what was happening in front of her - the music was really coming together, and the heat radiating off her cheeks was replaced with a resigned pride that her idea was the catalyst for this moment. She felt Carrie stiffen in her seat beside her, brushing a curl behind her ear. 

_If she wanted to be jealous, I’ll just let her_ , Julie thought as the band carefully navigated her modification to the chorus, and the brief runthrough came to a close. A delighted smile bloomed across her face as the boys set down their instruments, the writers giving them a smattering of applause. 

“Very nice! Very nice,” the head writer chorused, and then turned to Julie, “thank you _very_ much for your contribution, Ms. Molina. We’ll be back after a brief break, everyone.” 

Julie lingered in the studio, smiling politely at the praise as Carrie all but stormed out the door. Reggie’s eyes followed her as he pulled his leather jacket back on, raising a confused eyebrow at the theatrics as the writers followed closely behind her. Before Julie knew it, she was left alone in the room with the band. 

“Listen, um. I’m sorry for acting that way when you came in. This music… isn’t quite my vibe,” Luke said after a moment, wincing at his own cliche. “Sorry. That sounds really pretentious.” 

“Maybe because you are really pretentious.” Reggie joked, and walked over to Julie after he put his bass on its stand. “I’m Reggie. It seems like you really know your stuff.” 

“Oh, my word, I mean. Not really. That’s all you guys.” Julie could feel her cheeks reddening - she was supposed to be complimenting their obvious talent, not the other way around. 

“Come on, Julie, just own up to your awesomeness for a second here. That was a great save - for the music _and_ for Luke’s temper. Seriously.” Alex smiled, taking a sip of his latte. 

“I… I don’t know about that. But thank you.” Julie smiled, making a break for the studio door. “I. Um. Need to talk to Lessa about something for a minute. I’ll be back, okay?” 

“Sounds good. See you then, Julie. Won’t start without ya’ this time!” 

Julie’s eternally grateful that the Sunset Curve frontman didn’t see her smile at the way he said her name as she slid out to the refuge of the hallway. The dread that she’d felt all morning had finally resolved because of one simple realization: 

These boys really were something special.  
  
-  
  


She sat down as fast as she could in the corner of the sprawling lounge, trying not to let quickly forming hot tears ruin her eyeliner. Pink nails frantically composed a message as she avoided the eyes of the writers gathered around a nearby table, sipping coffee and tapping on laptops.  
  
  


**Carrie 💞’s iphone** : I thought you told me not to talk in the writers’ circle meetings?? 

**Dad** : I did. 

**Dad** : You didn’t, did you? What happened? 

**Carrie 💞’s iphone** : I didn’t. Julie did. 

**Dad** : I guess Rose didn’t give her any warning for how those sessions go then. Glad it wasn’t you sweetheart. Usually they’d tear you apart for interrupting the process. 

**Carrie 💞’s iphone** : Well Julie talked and they liked her idea and they actually recorded it. 

**Dad** : Oh. Well. 

**Carrie 💞’s iphone** : Yeah. Oh. 

**Carrie 💞’s iphone** : She just stood up and played some random idea for Sunset Curve, dad. After she was LATE. 

**Carrie 💞’s iphone** : This is going to be an eternal summer. 

**Dad** : It’ll be okay, Car. Professionalism wins out in the end, yeah? 

Carrie 💞’s iphone: If you say so. Ttyl.  
  
  
-  
  


When Julie finally broke free from the boys’ praise, cheeks rosy with pride, she headed down the hallway, determined to seek out Lessa. She was curious about the plan for after writers’ circle, and as Julie rounded the corner to where she believed the intern coordinator’s office to be, she nearly spilled the remnant of her iced coffee all over a very tall individual. 

Julie rebounded from the collision, holding her coffee to her chest and preparing to stutter an apology before the figure in front of her nearly rendered her speechless. He was very finely dressed in a 3-piece suit, his dark hair combed back neatly. He almost appeared to be a figure from another decade, drifting through time with a pocketwatch chain dangling from his suit jacket, if not for the iPhone currently held to his ear. 

She began to splutter an apology, then registered the iPhone and winced, falling silent until the man’s conversation was completed. She dreaded the conversation that was to come: he truly looked like someone _important_ , and Julie really didn’t want to lose her internship on her very first full day. 

Surprisingly, a smile flitted across his lips as he held up a hand to suggest ‘one moment,’ before speaking to whoever was on the other line: “Trust me, William, you’re all set here, alright? Lessa’s holding onto your spot. Take your time.” His voice sounded like something out of a black-and-white movie, accent bordering on iconic Transatlantic tones. With the mention of her boss in the conversation, Julie felt like she was listening in on something too important to concern her. “Well. It’ll settle out. Truly. Now, I have to go, but if anything changes I’ll be sure to let you know. Goodbye,” he crooned, that half-smile reappearing, and suddenly the man’s attention was completely on her. 

“Well, now, I don’t think I’ve seen you around the studio!” he exclaimed, and Julie smiled nervously. 

“Oh, well, sir, I’m one of the summer interns.” she replied, flashing her lanyard at him with mild excitement. “So that would probably make sense. This is my first full day.” 

“Then that would make sense, wouldn’t it?” he echoed, dark eyes sparkling, “Which track, if you don’t mind my asking?” 

“Performance,” she managed to reply, gaze flicking down to the floor for a moment (whoever this man was, he made some _intense_ eye contact). 

“Performance… well. You wouldn’t be Julie Molina, then, would you?” he asked smoothly. 

“Oh, yeah, that’s me!” a smile returned to her face at his recognition. 

“You’re a hit with the writers already, I hear,” he began with a drawl, and cut Julie off before she could interject, “-please! Don’t be modest, Ms. Molina, word travels _quite_ fast through these halls. I believe you’ll show some real promise at the office this summer.” 

“Thank you so much, sir.” 

“Absolutely. I am so pleased to meet you. And if you ever want to take the next step after your time at Eurydice is done this summer… feel free to let me know.” With a flourish, the man suddenly held a pristine business card, as if he were a magician in the midst of an act. 

“Oh, wow, thank you so much Mr…” her eyes trail the slanted script on the card. “Covington. Mr. Covington. I’ll be sure to let you know.” 

“Wonderful, Julie. I’ll be seeing you around then?” 

“I hope so.” she smiled slightly as the antique man strode past her with ease, disappearing around the corner. With the writers’ circle almost about to meet up again, Julie decided to save her question for Lessa until after the meeting; she’d seriously prefer not to be late twice in one morning. 

Turning the business card in her hand carefully, she reread the crisp print on the card before slipping it in her pocket, walking back towards the studio. It read: 

  


CALEB COVINGTON 

MANAGEMENT 

EURYDICE RECORDS 

_hgc@eurydice.com_  
  
  


The only true decoration on the card was found in the top left corner: an elaborate purple insignia, designed to resemble a wax seal.


End file.
